Rejuvination
by Roaming Tigress
Summary: It had been several years since Negaduck had killed Bushroot . . . Or did he? Set after and conclusion to Prince of Darkness. Please R/R; chapter three gets a little heated XD
1. Chapter 1

Rejuvenation

by Roaming Tigress

Chapter One:

Goodbye, Negaduck, and The Rebirth

It had been several years since Steelbeak had last seen Bushroot,; the last he had heard of the plant/duck hybrid was the arrival of the news that he had been mercilessly killed by none other than a jealous Negaduck, hell bent on making the top agent his own piece of property. The mallard had indeed got his wish, and for several years, until one night of July 2010.

There was something in the air that night, and it wasn't coming from the currency of Megavolt's light bulb collections. There was almost a magnetic pull in the atmosphere, for which the rooster had dismissed as merely being a change in the weather. It had been a particularly moody summer in St. Canard, after all. Yet, it was too strong. Even the breeze felt different. It had a lighter, warmer lift, as if it was the start of spring. If the rooster still retained his sense of smell, he may have been able to pick up a familiar scent that was of a mix of lavender and rain water. "Keep that up, and you'll wear a pattern into the floor . . . " Negaduck sighed, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair as he watched Steelbeak restlessly pace in front of the window like a panther in a zoo. It was then that Steelbeak finally stopped pacing, as if he had just realized he was doing it.

"Gotta go for a walk - " The rooster looked to the ground for a moment, then looked over his broad shoulder.

Negaduck shrugged, looking a little past Steelbeak as he watched the clouds roll in. "Going to storm. Wait 'till tomorrow."

Over the past few months, the bond that Negaduck and Steelbeak had for one another had waned, and there had been more bad days than good. There was silence over dinnertime, whereas before, discussions of villainous deeds were talked over. It went without saying that a break up in the future was inevitable.

Steelbeak shrugged. "Don't mind a bit of rain. 'Sides, already missed out on my morning run."

The rooster had always despised rain. He didn't like how it soaked up the down of his feathers and made his clothing stick to him. Then there was the issue of watermarks on his trademark metallic beak and Armani. He hadn't earned the nickname of the Devil's Dandy from SHUSH agents for nothing. Yet, Steelbeak was desperate. He had to get out, walk, run, whatever it is, to release the pent up anxiety building up inside him.

Thoughts of the rooster slipping out of his possession wormed their way into Negaduck's sordid mind. He reached into his jacket to retrieve a gun, but then slipped it out again with a growl. It would be too easy, too unsatisfactory, to kill him right here and then.

"You're free to go." He had felt the rooster's eyes on him as he reached into his jacket, plans of revenge already starting to kick in.

Steelbeak knew that Negaduck's words referred to more than just a literal walk in the park. This was it. _This was it. _He looked to the ground again, then back at the mallard who simply nodded, pulling out a knife to file his nails.

"Mmm, can remember when I first captured you. Shot you in the leg - "

"Ya's didn't get it all de out."

Memories of that night were coming back to Steelbeak. The searing pain of the bullet tearing through his flesh, hitting against the bone. There was the sheer terror of being pursued by the mallard whom he had once foolishly thought of as being a mere moodier rip-off of Darkwing Duck. He narrowed his silvery eyes, staring coldly at the mallard.

The rooster's hands clenched into fists. "Goodbye, Negaduck."

With that, Steelbeak left for the last time.

A pale blue fog floated over the forest floor on the outskirts of St. Canard, and with it, a warm mist gently trickled down off of the leaves of the trees. A steady calling of frogs broke the relative silence of the night, their song ever increasing in volume and then becoming silent once again as if something had disturbed them. And indeed, something had been disturbing them.

Was it a hungry raccoon? Restaurant owners looking to capture frogs for dinner? Children late out at night looking to capture them? Or was it an event that was unfolding that they had never encountered in all their millions of years of evolution?

A vine slowly snaked out of the water from the pond the frogs were calling from, reaching around the base of a dead tree and slowly upwards until it reached mid-height. Not wanting to be trapped inside, a small flock of crows took flight from their home in the hollow trunk. Their sudden flight had not gone unnoticed to the rest of the forest denizens.

Such an unusual growth attracted the attention of a curious deer, awoken from it's sleep by a startled member of his herd. The buck was bold enough to come close for an inspection, only to have it's nose slapped by what appeared to be a leafy hand. Shocked, the ungulate snorted and took off over the hill. No doubt, the buck had gained a new respect for his vegetarian appetite. Once all became still again, what appeared to be a duck's bill peeked around the edge of the tree, and with it, a green head, topped with what appeared to be a mop of gloopy algae. The creature shook his head to rid of itself with it, revealing a faint fuchsia tinge of feathery petals. This was Bushroot. Reginald Bushroot. Neither plant nor duck, but a mutation between the two.

For as long has he has been "dead", the landscape around him has been changed. What was once part of manicured park land had been reclaimed by nature. City cutbacks, said the mayor. Hauntings, the citizens claimed. Attempts to develop the plot of land for a Wallnut Mart were dashed after a bulldozer operator was mysteriously yanked out of his vehicle and slammed to the ground. He survived, but just barely.

Hauntings, the citizens said once again. The mayor once again, thought otherwise, just a gang of criminals - or was he covering up?

Slowly Bushroot pulled his form out from the pond, covered in algae and mould, but otherwise, his sinewy form was recognizable. Feeling dizzy, he leaned up against the tree for balance and gave it a gentle pat. Before the willow tree had died, it had formed a protective wrapping of roots around his body that was tight enough to safely secure him from being covered with the mud from the bottom of the pond, but not to hold him under the water indefinitely.

"Thanks old buddy." His voice, haven't been used for several years, was hoarse in tone. "I owe you one."

Reviving the old beauty might have been a long shot, especially after having been "dead" for so long, but nonetheless, Bushroot thought it was worth the try. With intense concentration, he put the palm of his leafy hand on the tree's bark and shut his eyes for a moment. Feeling no energy sift through from himself to the tree, he pulled his hand away with a sigh. Bushroot looked around for a moment, spotting a plant which the buck had uprooted as he fled from being slapped. He gently scooped it up and replanted it on the base of a tree. Over a period of time, this viney stem would grow up and around the tree's form. Once matured, on each spring, it would come out in full bloom. He hadn't regained his full strength to create it to mature earlier, but it was nonetheless a fine tribute t what had been a proud tree.

Thoughts of rejuvenation hadn't just been put towards plants. Memories of Bushroot's last moments were tickling back. He thought of Negaduck, and then Steelbeak, that charismatic rooster who had cared so deeply for him. Or so he thought. Why didn't he save him from being cut down by the murderous mallard? Cowardice, or fear?

_How could he have allowed this to have happened, after I have treated HIM so well? _

He scowled for a moment, feeling immensely betrayed. It wasn't against Bushroot's nature to hold grudges. Yet, for how long could this one last? If there was anyone who could relate to someone who had those moments of fear and cowardice, it was him. He shook his head.

_I could live without him. _

Bushroot shook his head again with a sigh. Walking out on him would make himself look all the more spineless, he thought, especially when he assumed he was still probably in Negaduck's grasp. Then his heart skipped a beat. Was Steelbeak even still alive? The plant-duck hybrid's heart raced even harder when he heard the snap of a twig. With Negaduck back on his mind and clinging onto it, he looked in every direction, looking out for the menacing mallard. Instead of taking flight, however, Bushroot held his ground, ready to fight.

_Bring it on, Negaduck. Bring it on. _


	2. Like A Ghost

Rejuvenation  
by Roaming Tigress

Chapter Two  
Like a Ghost

The only move Bushroot made as he watched as a shadowy figure move through thickening fog was the narrowing of his eyes. He started to feel the tingly sensations of his botanical powers begin to return and something he felt he had lost a long time ago - balls. He had assumed this character coming towards him was Negaduck, and he clenched his hands, ready to take him on. It would be worth it, even if he would literally lose his head over it - again.

_You can throw your best at me and I can take it. I am only part duck, but more duck than you ever will be, Negaduck._

He cringed and gritted his teeth as he saw the figure take out a scythe and slice their way through a wayward limb of a wisteria. Bushroot almost felt its pain on a spiritual level., and this angered him all the more. How dare that rotten mallard assault on such an innocent being!

_Ill avenge you, Sascha._

Bushroot had recognized this particular wisteria tree as being one that he had planted before he had mutated, as part of the commemoration for the reopening of St. Canard Park. However, he would be just as angry if it had been one of the many nameless that had been so ruthlessly mutilated. Luckily Sascha would live, albeit with a scar to tell of the brutal encounter with the literal bush beater.

As the figure came closer, it came apparent to Bushroot that this individual wasnt Negaduck. He did have one thing right; the figure did belong to that of a male, but the face remained obscured by thick vegetation and fog. Was this fellow just being curious and wanting to see if they could find the truth behind these rumours of a haunted forest? Or just another idiot bent on wrecking the environment? Assuming the latter, Bushroot began to summon the strength from all the plants in the forest, ready to attack at the first provocation.

Where did he go? Bushroot murmured, noticing the figure disappear into darkness once again.

Both curious and alarmed, he decided to follow and came upon some tracks. Whoever it was, didnt have much of a sense of direction in the forest. Just another clueless city dweller, he figured was he looked at the Many of them came through the woods and it often took them at least an hour just to get their bearings straight. Bushroot couldnt help but to chuckle at this.

_Man, he just keeps going in circles!_

Out of sheer curiosity, Bushroot tried to get a better look of who the owner of the footprints was, but the lack of lighting failed to give away any hints. He bent down and felt the nearest track for more clues, but the soil was too soft. Nonetheless, he kept following the trail until he had felt a great weight being thrown on top of his back. It was Spike! Bushroot had never hugged him so tightly before.

I never thought Id ever see you again, old buddy.

Negaduck had captured the mutated Venus Fly Trap following the murder on the plant-duck hybrid and had sold him to a zoo, expecting him to die from a broken heart. Alas for the duck of death, Spike had other ideas. He taken advantage of his enclosure being renovated, and just as they were going to move him out into a holding area, Spike made his great escape.

I know we just reunited, but do you think you could do your daddy a big favour?

Spike nodded, more than eager to assist with whatever task was needed to be done. As if reading his masters mind, he set right to work to follow the trail of the stranger before he was even told to do so. It did indeed go around a circle around what was once a lilac dell, but was picked up again towards the direction of the greenhouse.

Good boy, Spike, good boy . . .

A helpful tree branch pointed in the direction of where it had last observed the strangers wanderings, earning it a kiss of thanks from Bushroot. He picked up his pace, almost having forgotten how fast Spike moved when he was after something - or someone, in the case of unfortunate mail carriers and purple caped ducks. Quite suddenly, as they went around a bend in the trail, Spike broke off into a run.

Wait, wait, slow down! I dont want to scare him away. I want to see who he is.

Bushroot panted as he caught up to Spike, giving him a pat on the head. Good work, old boy. Think hes tryin to sneak into he greenhouse? He was almost more curious about why this person was out and about, than who he was.

Spike let out a growl at the very thought. How dare someone break into their home! He readied himself for an attack, just waiting for the OK from his Bushroot.

Easy boy, easy.

Bushroot patted his head and bent down behind a bush, making a signal for Spike to go into hiding as well. He watched as the figure again appeared, still obscured but he got a better idea of his body shape. He could tell it was a rather big fellow; deep in the chest, and in definitely in some kind of mission. Not so much of a random wandering, he thought, though a real good imitation of it.

Whoever it was, was smart. From as far as Bushroot could tell, it wasnt so much of a case that this fellow didnt want to be followed, but perhaps, he wanted the location of where he was wandering discovered. Someone experienced, no doubt. But what would he want with the greenhouse? He did indeed have several rare collections, but he had assumed that the most valuable of his collections had been long since stolen. It was even a surprise to him that the building had been still standing.

As the fog begin to thin out and the figure moved around the corner of the building, the identity of the mysterious was revealed.

It was Steelbeak.

Bushroot thought he was going to have a heart attack and die again right there and then. He gasped, putting a hand over his chest, feeling his heart pound so hard he was positive it was coming to come bursting out from his chest. He opened up his bill to say something, but the words failed to come out even if they were becoming alive and well in his mind as waves of emotion were enveloping him.

All at once he felt intense relief to see that Steelbeak was still alive, yet with the relief came that feeling of being betrayed once again. He wanted to yell at him, to call him out on not being with him on that night. At the same time, he wanted to hug that damn rooster and to never let him go. Ah, the complicated matter that is love.

On shaking legs, Bushroot slowly stood up to make sure what he was seeing, was really what he was seeing. It indeed was, but nonetheless it felt like he was watching a ghost - and more so when he saw Steelbeaks head turn right at his direction. As their eyes looked right into each others, Bushroots heart raced all the more and he wasnt too sure who was going to faint first.

The feelings were mutual across the field. How could it be that he is seeing what he is seeing? Was this all a dream? Has he too died and was this their reunion up in the big villain heaven up in the sky, or elsewhere? Steelbeaks knees threatened to buckle under him, but nonetheless, he forced them to take him to his old lover.

The rooster had aged since Bushroot had last seen him, thinner in built and his cheek feathers taking on a silver tint. Yet somehow he looked even more handsome than when Bushroot last saw him - especially so as he found himself scooped up his arms. As he was to find out, his voice was just as smooth as he remembered.

If dis is a dream, I dont wanna wake up.


	3. You Came Back to Me

**Rejuvenation**

by Roaming Tigress

**Chapter Three**  
You Came Back to Me

As Reginald Bushroot was whisked away into the greenhouse in Steelbeak's arms, he almost cried. As he looked around he could see the place was kept up immaculately, and there were even more plants than when he had last been in here. He expected the place to be in shambles, graffiti littered and plastered with signs marking it fit only for destruction.

"Wow . . . " He was able to say that word alone as he took it all in.

Steelbeak smiled, softly nuzzling the top of his boyfriend's head with the same beak that he has used to kill. Oh, how good it was to call him a boyfriend again! Oh, how he missed running his beak through that feathery, fuchsia petaled mop!

"I took care of 'er as best as I could." The rooster spoke with uncharacteristic modesty, and with that, he was immediately hugged around the neck.

The plants had never been so healthy before, so vibrant! Even the rare species that he had feared were lost forever, were taking off. What was his secret?

"Yes, Sweetpea, I can see that."

Tears of happiness steamed down Bushroot's green cheeks and he kissed that damn rooster as hard and as passionately as he could. He soon found himself being gently whirled along down the path along his beloved plants. No_, _no_ - their _beloved plants. They were part of the package deal, and seeing as how perfectly they were taken care of, Steelbeak had no issue with this.

As the kiss was finally broken, Steelbeak caught his breath, holding the plant-duck tighter against him.

"An' I felt it, babe. " An ironic statement considering he was incapable of feeling from the outside of his beak, but he felt it from within. "When I 'eard de news dat youse were . . . " The rooster's voice took on a shudder. "Dead, it 'elped me to take care of your friends. De wilted as if dey knew what 'appened wit'out me telling' im, but after a while, dey bounced back. Dey must've known somet'in dat I didn't."

With his eyes misted over, Bushroot framed Steelbeak's face in his leafy hands, turning him to face the sunniest direction in he greenhouse. He lightly patted him on the cheek as he saw him squint from the sun,, letting him look away.

"They were trying to tell you something." He continued as he saw the curiosity in the rooster's eyes. "Just close your eyes, take a deep breath, let it out, and you'll feel it. Them speaking to you. Reaching out to you. "

Steelbeak did as Bushroot suggested. He felt the warmth seeping through the glass and the humidity of the greenhouse on his feathers. From there, the warmth was absorbed down to each quill the light touched, and right down to his skin which twitched involuntarily. A tingly sensation was felt; not a bad one that he felt just before he felt someone pouncing out at him from a dark alley, but one that he had never felt before.

"Tingly feelings . . . Are dey normal?" The asked quietly with a raised eyebrow.

Bushroot smiled as he gently laid Steelbeak's hackles back down. Soon he found himself continuing his touch as he felt that gentle curve of his neck press up against the palm of his hand. He almost laughed as he heard him let out a tiny cluck out of affection.

"Yes, yes they are. You're absorbing in phytoncides. Organic compounds which plants have to ward off rotting and pests, but has a calming, immunity boosting effect on other living organisms."

Bushroot moved his touch to the neck muscles that had helped make the rooster's jaws all the more powerful. He could feel they had atrophied somewhat and attributed it to either the weight loss he's had, or through illness he had since recovered from. Nonetheless, Bushroot was determined to return him to his former built, sassy self.

"Being back with me, you'll heal in more ways than what is inside your heart."

Steelbeak let out a soft sigh as he felt Bushroot's touch move from his neck, to his face once again. He closed his eyes, letting out a sound that Bushroot had become accustomed to those many years ago; a purr. It had been such a long time since he had made that soothing sound that he was surprised that he still knew how to.

"I t'ink dat 'as already 'append, babe." He gently guided his beau's hand along his lethal trademark with such carefulness that had almost brought a tear to Bushroot's eyes.

Something inside the plant duck sparked when the kiss to his hand was delivered with every bit of the gentleman's grace that he remembered from all those years ago. A smile - a very different smile - appeared across this bill. With the rooster's hand still over his, he glided his touch down to his heart, and to a lapel of his jacket. "May I - "

The rooster breathed out, finding himself becoming lost in the moment already.

"Yes."

Bushroot's hand slipped from his lapel, to the inside of his jacket and around his chest as he was slowly lowered back to the ground. He melted against the rooster's solid form and caressed his lower back with his free hand, snaking it slowly up along his waist and up his red silk shirt.

"Don't stop . . . " The rooster purred, feeling his fingers sneaking their way into the soft downy feathers of his belly.

":I'll do anything but."

With a smirk, a vine wrapped around each of Steelbeak's ankles, playfully tipping him up into a giant canna lily leaf chair. The arm that was once around his deep chest was wrapped around the upper portion of his inner thigh and up around his groin. The grip was cinched, and gently it parted his leg away from the other as another vine parted the other.

"Tryin' at get me into de nature stuff, eh?" Steelbeak gave just the right mount of resistance, looking over at his mate with a smirk as he decided to give him a challenge.

For all the mischief that was in their eyes, there was also deep trust. For even with the half of a decade they had been away from each other, they still knew how just how far to go with each other.

"Maybe, my love. Maybe."

Bushroot cooed as he traced a heart around his rooster's navel as he tried to squirm from his grip, electing another happy cluck. For that, he couldn't resist nuzzling his bill into his feathers as he dragged a finger further down. With one quick, smooth move, he unzipped his fly.

Steelbeak leaned in and whispered he felt the vines removing his trademark suit and red shirt. "I would say yes."

Once his fancy duds were taken off, the vines took a hold of his arms while the ones at his legs tugged his pants down to his ankles. At last, Steelbeak was just where Bushroot wanted him; vulnerable in his full exposure despite his handsomeness, and just nature had intended. As he pulled his weight against his restraints, Steelbeak became all the more desirable, even beautiful in the strength he displayed. All the while, his power was intermixed with undeniable submissiveness.

Bushroot slowly slipped his lean form over onto the rooster's, causing his squirming to increase all the more. With a smirk, he sent the chair back, keeping Steelbeak suspended in the vines alone as he straddled him around the waist. Another vine came around, giving the rooster a surprise spank to his unprotected tush. He was almost bucked off, and couldn't help but to notice a playful smirk in the corner of his beak.

"Being a bad boy with Reggie, are you?" His eyes took on a sultry expression as he reached a foot back and teased the cock's cock with his bark textured toes. A deep rumbling purr came up from the rooster's chest, and with it, Bushroot's answer.

Bushroot just about purred himself, touching him everywhere he could. He craved just touching him just as much as he did having his way with him. "Mmm, you are being a bad boy with Reggie. What should I do to make you behave, hmm?"

"Hmm, I dun - " Steelbeaks' eyes shots wide open as he felt a vine slide itself in between his cheeks, and not the ones on his face.

Slick, sap like liquid seeped out from the plant's outer surface and after a little backside teasing, quickly made its penetration without a further warning. The rooster let out a short cry and slammed his pelvis upwards, feeling a sharp tingling sensation course throughout him. With almost perfect timing, he had made his own grand entrance for Bushroot. The plant duck tilted his head backwards and let out a long, deep moan as he slid down his entire length. He further urged Steelbeak on with another lash of the vine, gripping onto and tugging the thick feathers of his chest. For the first time in a long time, he was feeling something that he had long thought was long lost - the feeling of confidence. Fleeting worries of being unable to give what Steelbeak needed had soon dissipated.

"Yes, yes babe, just like that . . . " Bushroot panted, moving up and down his shaft in time with Steelbeak's powerful rhythm. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself - as Steelbeak did as well - to the desires that had been snatched away from them so brutally.

The sensation of two bodies becoming one had been as strong - if not stronger - before Bushroot had been put out of commission and Steelbeak was captured. There were some things that Negaduck simply could not destroy. Rarer still, there were things that his attempts had made inadvertently better.

This was one of them. Steelbeak's inner avian desire to fly had hit him hard, and he felt like he was soaring. It had been too long, too long, since he had felt this good. He rode along on that high, never letting go.

"Reggie . . . Reginald!"

He panted, his thrusting increasing in strength and speed as he felt his orgasm build. The vine within him slammed up against his prostate and teased at it with a massaging touch. The combination of roughness and gentleness sent him closer to the edge.

"Come for me, babe . . ." Bushroot murmured as he felt the rooster's orgasm built from inside him. His own wasn't far along.

Tensing, Steelbeak gave one more strong slam and threw his head back, letting out a cry similar to his species' distinct crow. His release came long, and strong and he opened his beak to capture the seed that came sprouting from Bushroot's taproot. Although his tense of taste was askew a result of his prosthetic, he was able to savour the sweet, tangy flavour. Bushroot collapsed onto his form, sighing, catching his as he felt the final orgasmic spasms fade. Laying his head down on his chest, he was further soothed by the sound of Steelbeak's heart beating. He had almost forgotten about what beautiful sound it was. A sound of life, a sound of love.

"I'm in love with you again."

Basking in the glow, Steelbeak smiled and leaned in, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. "I t'ink you always were."

Bushroot nodded with a mellow smile and wrapped his arms around his torso, basking in the glow with him.

"You came back to me."


	4. Chapter 4:The Good Doctor

Rejuvenation

by Roaming Tigress Chapter Four

The Good Doctor

Bushroot watched Steelbeak with half-open eyelids as they laid sprawled out on the floor. Specifically, a dirt floor - the last place one would ever expect to find a rooster of Steelbeak s calibre. But there he was, comfortable as if he had been lying on a canopy bed in the ritziest of bedrooms. Perhaps the rooster s inner chicken was coming through, something

The plant duck loved how the dying light reflected on his metal beak and he touched it. He found this moment to be deeply intimate, for only the plant duck was allowed to touch his namesake. With a soft smile he leaned over and kissed him on the spot he touched.

Mmm, hey babe . . .Steelbeak purred, stirring as he awoke. Been a real long time since I slept - His sentence was interrupted by a burning sensation to from his inner thigh, lower back and wrists, and he itched furiously. His manicured nails did little to ease his itching and only literally ruffled his feathers.

Bushroot was alarmed. Had he caused a allergic reaction to his rediscovered boyfriend? As he cast his eyes downward, he saw that the answer was yes, in the form of raised hives in between the quills of his feathers. He blushed and became flustered, squeezing Steelbeak s hand gently. He hoped that he wasn t going to be too angry with him. They had only got back together, after all.

Oh, don t worry - I got something for that.

Before he was able to turn to leave, the rooster gave a kiss to his fingertips, letting him know through just that, that he was far from upset with Bushroot. Indeed, he missed being looked after. He could easily get used to it again. He laid where he was as gestured for him to lie; up in a giant hosta leaf. Yes, he could get used to this, he told himself.

Bushroot came on back to him with a flask of what looked like pale green foam. Now this is a concoction of aloe, lavender and camomile. It ll sting for a moment, but you ll feel so much better afterwards.

Steelbeak inwardly cringed at the mention of it stinging. This coming from a rooster who had been through it all. He nonetheless put a brave face on and closed his eyes as he Bushroot stirred the salve and onto his palm. Maybe it wouldn t be so bad after all. He knew that aloe stung initially but thought the lavender and camomile would counteract it.

As warned, there was indeed a sting - the second it was applied just slightly above the ankle after the feathers were parted. He grit his teeth and shrank back, his eyes tightly shut. A flash of metallic sheen was sent slashing at Bushroot as he snapped at him out of reflexes. He missed him by a mere inch and blinked at the realization.

It s okay, it s okay . . .

Knowing he didn t snap at him out of maliciousness, Bushroot kept his calm. He patted him on the beak that had almost pruned his hand of his leafy fingers and gently he held it shut as he gave the area another dabbing. The rooster winced once more before calming as the stinging sensation was replaced with one that was cooling - and a very pleased smile to Steelbeak s face.

Dat feels . . . Dat feels nice. Steelbeak let out a heavy sigh as the salve was applied up his calves, and another as Bushroot massaged it in deeper. This attention alone was giving him reason to believe that allergies weren t always a bad thing.

Bushroot leaned in, giving the rooster a kiss on the tummy, unable to resist as he laid sprawled out. He delighted in hearing that clucking laugh, the slight squirm, the feel of those downy feathers on his bill. At this moment he was at once vulnerable and submissive, letting Bushroot do whatever he desired. It was a side of Steelbeak s that very few were allowed to see.

You re adorable, you know that?

Steelbeak let out a half hearted scoff as thoughts of being called that c word. De Steelbeak? Who once turned de tides, literally?

No, Quackerjack. Bushroot winked, lightly touching underneath one of his knees. This elicited a curling of the toes by the rooster from the almost arousing, tickling sensation.

Got one more leg to do, too. He grinned at the reaction, and felt his cheeks flush. And, erm - if we do this again -

Steelbeak gave his hand a squeeze, shaking his head. It was as if he knew what he was going to say, sensing the words that were to come out from Bushroot s bill.

Same vines, babe. Why punish em?

Reginald sent him a wink, delighted that the rooster took an interest in their well-being. You just like getting all this attention.

Might be part of it. Steelbeak returned the wink, flashing him that smile.

After a good lather, Bushroot started at the ankle and slowly worked upwards his shin. He took his time, not wanting the moment to end anytime soon - and the rooster would now agree to that. He gently turned him aside as it was time for his downy backside to be given the same treatment. He was being a stellar patient.

Steelbeak smiled, looking over his shoulder as he watched, felt Bushroot s treatment. Youse ave a way wit dose ands. When we re done ere, I d like at just . . . Explore each otha t rough touch.

It didn t take much for Bushroot to agree with him. He had always liked the rooster s touch, and likewise, he loved to touch him. He loved the feel of those finely conditioned feathers between his fingers, the raw strength he possessed in those muscles. He loved that were just as capable of giving soft touches as much as violent ones towards their foes.

We could do that.

Long before his death , and before the rooster came into his life, the plant duck knew only the familiarity of loneliness. Steelbeak had given Bushroot what he had needed, and then some. He had also been giving him confidence. He felt safer in his presence, even with his superpowers.

The plant duck placed his hands on his lower back, sifting his fingers through to the skin as he worked his way downward. It was every much a massage as it was an allergy treatment; Bushroot wouldn t have it any other way. As expected, he would hear no argument from Steelbeak on that. He shook his head, his gentle smile widening. Such an unlikely duo they are, he thought, but somehow . . .They just worked.

With a cheeky smirk, Steelbeak pressed up into his hands as he felt his fingers move to his feathered behind, squirming up slightly so that his iridescent teal tail feathers could be given attention to as well. He hadn t thought much of having them stroked before, and being as he had always been so proud of them, this surprised him. He closed his eyes as Bushroot gave them a scratch.

Typical rooster. Loving being the center of attention, eh? Bushroot chuckled, admiring their color. They reminded him of several flowers that he had planted in the garden, and he loved how they shone in the sunlight.

You re such a ham.

Youse know me well.

Bushroot smiled, leaning in to give Steelbeak a kiss on the tip of his beak. I can t help but to not know you well.

There was trust as they looked into each other s eyes. Hands were held, caressed and softly kissed. Feathers were stroked, anthers were given a delicate nibble and a leafy tail was stroked. Cheeks were touched., and a fluffy belly was given another scratching. Not a further word was said during this moment. None simply needed to be spoken, for they were said through tender touches alone.

It was when the fading light of day gave away to night that Steelbeak decided to break the silence. There was hesitation as he did so, as if he was afraid of wrecking the moment.

It s been an amazing day, youse know. He smiled, pressing his forehead against Bushroot s. We s found each otha again, in more ways den one.

Bushroot curled up on Steelbeak s upper torso, the warmth therapeutic of it as it absorbing into his still healing body. He lightly scratched his companion s cheek feathers as he felt his powerful arms embracing him, feeling himself drift off to sleep.

We have, my love, we have. 


End file.
